


Like A Ship On The Ocean

by orphan_account



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Family Bonding, Gen, How Supernatural (TV) Could End, M/M, Possibly Pre-Slash, Post-Season/Series 14, Team Free Will 2.0, To Be Continued
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-06-15 23:23:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15423915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: So this is the end for the legendary Winchesters.Does that mean going out in a blaze of glory, or settling into retirement and some well deserved peace?It all depends..





	Like A Ship On The Ocean

**Author's Note:**

> “A ship in harbor is safe — but that is not what ships are built for.” — John A. Shedd

Ironically, it wasn’t expelling Michael from his vessel, killing him, miraculously restoring Jack’s powers, using them to restore Heaven to its former glory, or using them to save the Apocalypse world that took the Winchesters out of the family business for good. It wasn’t their first ~~rodeo~~ Apocalypse after all.

No, it was something much more mundane than that, old school even. Sam and Dean had gone on what they thought was a “milk run” case, not even 4 hours out from the bunker. Dean had been so confident they’d make it home in time for dinner, that he’d left a casserole dish of homemade lasagna out on the kitchen table with a post-it note of cooking instructions for whoever made it home first the next night.

Cas and Jack were making one of their regular trips to Heaven to help smooth out any lingering kinks in its shiny, new system. Dean called it the “weekly celestial father son bonding trip,” and Cas never denied that it was a chance for him to teach Jack about their family history. And if his time as an adopted Winchester had made him fond of road trips, so be it.

Mary, on the other hand was following up on a fairly local case she’d wrapped up months ago, and was checking up on the victims, providing comfort and support where she could. And if it was partly because spending more time with her sons and getting to know them as grown men had made her softer all around, so be it.

But no matter how far they had all wondered, they were all prepared to return home for their new traditional Sunday night family dinners. It was an idea that Sam had come up with in the weeks following their last big 'fate of the universe kinda victory'. In the aftermath and shock, everyone had naturally clung together seeking comfort in one another, and Sam knew it was a good outlet for Dean's nurturing side, since he did the cooking 9/10 times.

One time Sam had tried to make a chicken stir fry, but had accidentally set off a smoke alarm no one knew the bunker even had. Another weekend, Mary presented a meal consisting solely of potato skins and Totino’s pizza rolls, because as she said, “They were popular back in the 80s! I can’t cook for real, and there are so many new brands and products I don’t recognize, so I just grabbed the first familiar items from the freezer section.” After Cas tried and failed to make a simple bowl of spaghetti, Dean drew the line.

“That’s it!” he’d said, “Y’all are all hopeless cases.”

“I’m sorry, Dean,” said Cas earnestly, “As I do not partake in consuming food anymore, it is hard to remember the intricacies of human taste and seasoning.”

“Exactly how much salt did you put in the water, man?”

Cas shrugged sheepishly, “All of it.”

“Dammit, Cas," Dean muttered, rolling his eyes, torn between genuine irritation and fond exasperation for his angel.

"From now on, I’m the only one with rights to the kitchen! Got it?” He dared anyone to object.

They all nodded solemnly in response to his glare before he started dialing the phone number for some emergency takeout.

Since then, all their Sunday night dinners had gone swimmingly, and Dean was only a little embarrassed to say they were the highlight of his week, especially on the occasions when they’d go all the way over to Jody’s house, or invite her and the girls to the bunker to join them.

It just so happened that the end of Sam and Dean's hunting career came on what was supposed to be a casual night, when Dean knew everyone would be worn out from their respective ventures. Regardless, he was anxious to wrap the "easy case" up and get home to see his family. Just the thought of Team Free Will 2.0 (+their Mom), made him feel warm and fuzzy inside, something he'd desperately needed after the trauma of being possessed by Michael, even if they'd been past that "hurdle" and any other cosmic issues for a blissfully long period of time.

His warm and fuzzy feeling faltered when Sam called him from the morgue.

“Dean, it’s worse than we thought. These victims weren't just eviscerated or without hearts, there was barely anything left. Like they were all snacks for something or other. It’s definitely up there with some of the more grisly remains we’ve seen. Also, the sheer amount of victims is disturbing. Not only is this creature ruthless, it’s prolific.”

“Okay, so we gotta find it and gank it fast, got it. I just talked to my third victim family, same deal. Each victim’s last known whereabouts were either inside or near the local State Park. Our original werewolf theory may or may not hold after all. If we weren’t so far south, I’d say this looked like a wendigo.”

“They aren’t usually found outside of Minnesota or northern Michigan though.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time some fugly was found where it wasn’t supposed to be. But if not a wendigo, what? A ghoul? Still thinking werewolves?”

“I don’t know, man. Maybe we should meet back at the motel, prepare for all of the above, and then head to the Park to scout.”

“Just charge in guns blazing, Sammy? Isn’t that more my style?”

“If we’re lucky, we won’t run into anything today, and we can plan to return tomorrow.”

“No, if we were lucky, we’d hike less than a mile, gank a son of a bitch without getting thrown into any walls, save a pretty girl or two, get back to Lebanon by 7 PM, so we don’t miss family dinner, and have time to spare, so we can get pie for dessert after my amazing lasagna,” Dean sighed as he started driving back to the shitty motel of the week.

 

“But when are we ever that lucky?”


End file.
